The Puppet Crown by Harlod MacGrath (best life changing books .TXT) 📕

Why not
the pantry maid, since the other is an American? They
lack discrimination. The king grows weaker every
day. Nothing was found in the Englishman's rooms. I
fear that the consols are in the safe at the British
legation. As usual, a courier will arrive each night.
B."


"Why-not-the-pantry maid?" Maurice drawled. "That is flippant." He read the message again. "What plan?" Suddenly he struck his thigh. "By George, so that is it, eh, Madame? So that is why we are so comfortably lodged here? I am in the way, and you bait the hook with a countess! Since the purse will not lead the way, the heart, eh? Certainly I shall tell my lord the Englishman all about his hostess when I return from the ride. Decidedly you are clever. O, how careless! Not even in cipher, so that he who reads may run. And who is B.?-Beauvais! Something told me that this man had a hand in the affair. I remember the look he gave me. A traitor, too.

"Hang my memory, which seems always to forget what I wish to remember and remember what I wish to forget! Where have I met this man Beauvais before? Ah, the countess!" He thrust the message into his breast. "Evidently Madame thinks I am worth consideration; uncommonly pretty bait. Shall I let the play run on, or shall I tell her? Ah! you have two minutes to spare," he said, as she approached. "But you do not need them," throwing a deal of admiration into his glance.

"It does not take me long to dress-on occasions."

"A compliment to me?" he said.

"If you will accept it."

It was an exhilarating morning, full of forest perfumes. Through the haze the mountains glittered like huge emeralds and amethysts.

"What a day!" said the countess, as they galloped away.

"Aye, for plots and war and love!"

"For plots and war?" demurely. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair as yellow as the silk of corn.

"Well, then, for love." He shortened his rein. "A propos, have you ever been in love, countess?"

"I? What a question!"

"Have you?"

"N-no! Let us talk of plots and war," gazing across the valley.

"No; let us talk of love. I am in love, and one afflicted that way wishes a confidant. I appoint you mine."

"Some rosy-cheeked peasant girl?" laughing.

"Perhaps. Perhaps it's only a-a pantry maid," with a sly look from the corner of his eyes. Evidently she had not heard. She was still laughing. "I have heard of hermits falling in love with stars, and have laughed. Now I am in the same predicament. I love a star-"

"Operatic? To be sure! Mademoiselle Lenormand of the Royal Vienna is in Bleiberg. How she keeps her age!"

It was Maurice's turn to laugh.

"And that is why you came to Bleiberg! Ah, these opera singers, had I my way, they should all be aged and homely."

"Countess, you are pulling the bit too hard," said he. "I noticed yesterday that your horse has a very tender mouth."

"Thank you." She slacked the rein. "He was going too close to the ditch. You were saying-"

"No, it was you who were saying that all actresses should be aged and homely. But it is not Mademoiselle Lenormand, it is not the peasant, nor the pantry maid."

This time she looked up quickly.

"The woman I love is too far away, so I am going to give up thinking of her. Countess, I made a peculiar discovery this morning."

"A discovery, Monsieur? What is it?"

"Do you see that fork in the road, a mile away? When we reach it and turn I'll tell you what it is. If I told you now it might spoil the ride. What a day, truly! How clear everything is! And the air is like wine." He drew in deep breaths.

"Let us hurry and reach the fork in the road; my curiosity is stifling me."

Maurice did not laugh as she expected he would. As she observed the thoughtful frown between his brows, a shiver of dread ran through her. It did not take long to cover the intervening mile. They turned, and the horses fell into a quick step.

"Now, Monsieur; please!"

After all . . . But he quelled the gentle tremor in his heart. A month ago, had he known her, he might now have told her altogether a different story. He could see that she had not an inkling of what was to come (for he had determined to tell her); and he vaguely wondered if he should bring humiliation to the dainty creature. It would be like nicking a porcelain cup. Her brows were arched inquisitively and her lips puckered. . . .He had had a narrow escape.

He drew the message from his breast, leaned across and handed it to her.

"Why, what is this, Monsieur?"

"Read it and see" And he busied himself with the tangled mane of his horse. When they had ridden several yards, he heard her voice.

"Here, Monsieur" The hand was extended, but the face was averted.

"Countess, you are too charming a woman to lend yourself to such schemes."

There was no reply.

"Did you not volunteer to make me fall in love with you to keep me from interfering with Madame's plans?" It was brutal, but he was compelled to say it.

Silence.

"Did you not?" he persisted. "When one writes such messages as these, one should use an intricate cipher. Had I been other than a prisoner, what I have done would not be the act of a gentleman. But I am a prisoner; I must defend myself. To rob a man through his love! And such a man! He is a very infant in the hands of a woman. He has been a soldier all his life. All women to him are little less than angels; he knows nothing of their treachery, their deceit, their false smiles. It will be an easy victory, or rather it would have been, for I shall do my best to prevent it. Madame is not unknown to me; I have been waiting to see what meant this peculiar house party.

"Perhaps I am now too late. Madame distrusts me. I dare say she has her reasons. She went to you. You were to occupy me. I was young, I liked the society of women, I was gay and careless. She has decked me out as one would deck a monkey (and doubtless she calls me one behind my back), and has offered me a sword to play with.

"In America, when a man puts a sword in his hand, it is to kill somebody. Here-aye, all over the continent, for that matter- swords are baubles for young nobles, used to slash each other in love affairs. I respect and admire you; had I not done so, I should not have spoken. Countess, be frank with me, as frank as I have been with you; have I not guessed rightly?"

"Yes, Monsieur," her head bowed and her cheeks white. "Yes, yes! it was a miserable game. But I love Madame; I would sacrifice my pride and my heart for her, if need be."

"I can believe that."

"And believe me when I say that the moment I saw you, I knew that my conduct was going to be detestable. But I had given my promise. A woman has but little to offer to her country; I have offered my pride, and I am a proud woman, Monsieur. I am ashamed. I am glad that you spoke, for it was becoming unbearable to throw myself at a man whose heart I knew intuitively to be elsewhere." She raised her eyes, which were filled with a strange luster. "Will you forgive me, Monsieur?"

"With all my heart. For now I know that we shall be friends. You will be relieved of an odious part; for you are too handsome not to have in keeping some other heart besides your own."

He then began gaily to describe some of his humorous adventures, and continued in this vein till they arrived once more at the chateau. Sometimes the countess laughed, but he could see that her sprightliness was gone. When they came under the porte cochere he sprang from his horse and assisted her to dismount; and he did not relinquish her hand till he had given it a friendly pressure. She stood motionless on the steps, centered a look on him which he failed to interpret, then ran swiftly into the hall, thence to her room, the door of which she bolted.

"It would not be difficult," he mused, communing with the thought which had come to him. "It would be something real, and not a chimera."

He turned over the horses to the grooms, and went in search of Fitzgerald to inform him of his discovery; but the Englishman was nowhere to be found. Neither was Madame. Being thirsty, he proceeded to the dining hall. Fadette, the maid, was laying the silver.

"Ah, the `pantry maid,'" he thought. "Good day, Fadette."

"Does Monsieur wish for something?"

"A glass of water. Thanks!"

She retreated and kept her eyes lowered.

"Fadette, you are charming. Has any one ever told you that?"

"O, Monsieur!" blushing.

"Have they?" lessening the distance between them.

"Sometimes," faintly. She could not withstand his glance, so she retired a few more steps, only to find herself up with the wall.

With a laugh he sprang forward and caught her face between his hands and imprinted a kiss on her left cheek. Suddenly she wrenched herself loose, uttered a frightened cry and fled down the pantryway.

"What's the matter with the girl?" he muttered aloud. "I wanted to ask her some questions."

"Ask them of me, Monsieur," said a voice from the doorway.

Maurice wheeled. It was Madame, but her face expressed nothing. He saw that he had been caught. The humor of the situation got the better of him, and he laughed. Madame ignored this unseemly hilarity.

"Monsieur, is this the way you return my kindness?"

"Permit me to apologize. As to your kindness, I have just discovered that it is of a most dangerous quality."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I could not kiss Madame the countess with the same sense of security as I could the- pantry maid," bowing.

Just now Madame's face expressed a good deal. "Of what are you talking?" advancing a step.

"I had in mind what our friend, Colonel Beauvais, remarked in his recent dispatch: I know no discrimination. The fact is, I do. I found the dispatch on the floor this morning. Allow me to return it to you. I have kept silent, Madame, because I did not know how to act."

"You have dared-?" her lips pressed and her eyes thunderous.

"To read it? Aye. I am a prisoner; it was in self-defense. Madame, you do me great honor. A countess! What consideration to the indiscriminate! Au revoir, then, till luncheon;" and he left the room, whistling-

Voici le sabre de mon pere!


CHAPTER XI


THE DENOUEMENT

At no time during the